Serenity Comes From Expectation Management

There is a certain personality type that is always looking for ways to make things better – themselves, their jobs, their lives, their communities, and possibly even the systems that shape those things. And, to a certain extent, that is useful.

Perhaps you have this personality type. Perhaps you agree with the playwright, George Bernard Shaw, who said:

“The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

Perhaps some people are able to sustain this mindset their entire lives, continuing to alter their environments to suit themselves or to pursue altruistic perceived improvements. Perhaps these lucky few are able to sustain happiness, satisfaction, or contentment.

But perhaps not. Instead, many of us find that we reach a point where we are no longer able to shape our environment.

Toni Bernhard was instrumental (through her books) in helping me really “get” that I would be less discontent, and possibly might even reach a state of equilibrium, if I acknowledged that my expectations did not match my reality and let go of my expectations. At the time I first started contemplating this idea, I was thinking about my chronic illness and disability.

But recently I’ve been thinking about this idea while reflecting on my time in the military. I separated from military service because my last unit had bad leaders and a toxic work environment, and because I was not permitted to make any changes that might improve the situation.

I had reached the point where I woke up every morning dreading getting out of bed and going to work in that environment. But what if I had managed my expectations? What if I had shifted my perspective?

It is not in the nature of most military members (nor is it nurtured) to walk past a problem without attempting to solve it. In fact, military members are strongly encouraged to fix any problem they see or hear about.

But, having given it my best shot, and having been told my input was unwelcome and the situation was not going to change, what if I had adjusted my expectations? Would my work situation have been more tolerable if I had reframed the situation, and told myself that even though the situation was untenable, I was making money for financial independence? Perhaps the frequent deployments would have been less aggravating if I had seen them as opportunities to make tax-free money for retirement, rather than interruptions of my home life and education.

My discontent has always lain in the space between what “should be” and what is.

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

There comes a point, with chronic illness and/or permanent disability, when you realize that your old life is over and it’s not coming back. People in these communities call it “accepting your new normal.”

Now, you may argue that not accepting “one’s limitations” is empowering, and that refusing to accept that your illness/disability has to change your life will motivate you to get better and to accomplish things you (and the doctors) never thought possible. That may be true for a select few individuals. What is true for a great many more is that, no matter *what* they do or don’t do, their health or abilities are not coming back. And acceptance of this reality, this “new normal,” is the path to good mental health.

Discontent arises from reality not meeting expectations. You can insist that George Bernard Shaw was right, and that forceful visionaries improve their environments by insisting that reality conform to their expectations. But this is also the path to burnout and dissatisfaction.

In the end, the most useful advice may come in the form of the Serenity Prayer, known to many alcoholics:

As we grow in maturity, as we become older, and/or more infirm, may we seek for the serenity, the peace of mind, that comes from knowing what we can change and what we cannot change.

Our spending habits we can change. Sometimes even our salaries we can change. Our eating habits we can change. Many times, our exercise levels we can change. Our sleep habits we can change. (But that may not “cure” our insomnia.) We can try exercise plans, dietary supplements, prescription medicines, but sometimes we eventually have to accept that our bodies are permanently broken or ill or dysfunctional.

And coming to terms with our limitations is incredibly difficult. Most people say it’s an ongoing struggle, rather than a one-and-done. But if, as Toni says, we can reach a point where we acknowledge and observe our situation, experiencing the associated feelings and then releasing them, accepting what is – that gives us emotional freedom. Serenity, even.

So, as you seek to optimize your life, your organization, and/or your community, ask yourself this: What can I change and what can I not change?

Perhaps you’re allergic to shellfish. No amount of wishing it weren’t so is going to change that. Perhaps you have COPD, and living at altitude makes it more difficult to breathe. Maybe you have shoulder problems, and your doctor has told you never to do pull-ups again. Nearly all of us have some kind of limitations. The biggest challenge is learning which limitations to fight and which limitations to accept.

Perhaps the Rolling Stones couldn’t “get no satisfaction” because they should have taken Led Zeppelin’s advice and accepted “what is and what [can] never be.”

Having spent most of my life employing courage to change the things I can, I am now transitioning to developing the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to be able to identify which is which.

Are you wasting resources fighting a limitation that you cannot change?

Tell us in the comments if you’ve struggled with a limitation and what you learned from that experience, whether it has to do with health, finances, or some other aspect of your life or environment.

Author: Crew Dog

Desert Storm era veteran. SAC trained warrior.

2 thoughts on “Serenity Comes From Expectation Management”

  1. Thank you for writing this. It’s a very powerful and persuasive post, and we all need to internalize these new normals.

    But.

    I’m only in my late 50s, and I’m wasting a lot of time and effort on limitations that I can’t change! Will serenity come in my 60s? 70s? Ever?!?

    The worst part of finding serenity is remembering how much stamina I used to have and how quickly I could recover from physical and mental stress. Instead of being satisfied with my skills (or developing greater skills) I now struggle to minimize their decline. Instead of “training harder” I’m managing pain and even injuries.

    Financial independence lets me take “recovery naps” anytime I want, and that certainly helps find serenity. However our daily routine now revolves around one big activity for a few hours with built-in leisure time before & afterward… instead of powering through the To Do list of a 10-hour workday. I’m learning to leave 3-4 days of the weekly calendar blank, because they’re actually recovery days from everything else that I want to do.

    Even worse, I usually don’t realize my (new, lower) limits until I’ve already blown through them. My body (and my mind) don’t flash the warning lights as soon as they should. Maybe they never did.

    As you’ve written, we have to accept our new normal. But I empathize more with Dylan Thomas’ raging against the dying of the light…

    1. Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Doug.

      You capture a lot of the issues of expectation management. When do we accept change as our “new normal,” and when do we fight against degradation of capabilities? Perhaps we use data and research to create standards that an average person of our age “should” reasonably be able to meet, rather than lamenting the inability to meet the standards of our youth?

      In my situation, I feel like someone fast-forwarded my life, and I have the health limitations of someone at least twenty years older than I chronologically am – I skipped right over second career and went straight to (traditional) retirement. And, believe me, people don’t understand when your outsides don’t match your insides. If I were old & gray, people wouldn’t question why I am slowly crossing the crosswalk. But because I “don’t look sick (or old),” they get impatient with my pace and they act rudely.

      And, while I don’t want to imply that anyone’s experience is better or worse than another’s, it is very difficult to transition from being very fit and capable (as military members are) to being chronically ill, disabled, or otherwise less fit and less capable. There are serious identity issues at stake – who am I if I’m less capable than I used to be?

      And, honestly? I still have a lot of anger about my physical disabilities. At least in part, this anger is due to my expectations. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. I was supposed to have many more good years before I met such limitations. And I rage against the dying of the light, believe me, I rage. But then I usually remember what Arthur Ashe said about contracting HIV/AIDS: If I didn’t ask “why me” when all the good things happened in my life, how can I ask “why me” when the bad things do? [paraphrasing] My life has been a rollercoaster ride with high highs and low lows (or lots of amplitude to the sine wave, if you prefer). I’d rather have that than a placid life with little variation any day.

      It’s better for one’s health to release the anger and to create and follow a rational health maintenance plan. So those afternoon naps and planned down days are what a rational being would do. You don’t have to like the changes. But you’ll probably have a longer, healthier life if you accept them and accommodate them. [Or should I say I have the magic elixir that will make you feel 20 years younger, and I’m happy to sell it to you for a “nominal fee?” #Sidehustle]

      As for me, I’ll keep working on achieving Zen Yoda serenity. It may take a lifetime…

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